Eat the Rich
by gothamstreetcat
Summary: "Selina picked up the steak knife she didn't use from their table and began to pick her teeth with it. If Bruce and Elliot had been none the wiser they would have thought she was sharpening it." SET in Season One of Gotham - Bruce takes Selina out to dinner.


▲Warning: I want everyone to know before reading this that I do not encourage eating disorders in any way. I am not trying to glorify them either. Please know this story is just about Selina being hungry and how her eating "is a good cause." This story takes place during the first season of Gotham.▲

* * *

It was crazy to imagine of all the places you could frequent in Gotham City and yet still run into the same people from yesterday. A fact, which could have been true for Bruce Wayne if he had bothered to attend school the prior Friday of that week. He might have overheard the conversation of his schoolyard bullies-Thomas Elliott and his gang, boasting about going to eat, Saturday night. He would have come to know of their reservations in the posh part of town at the highly established restaurant: _The Blue Mockingbird._

A false idea of what Gotham claims to be but truly what it is not. Clear sky in an innocent sea. Only the sky is grey and the seas are black spattered with blood. Located straight in the middle of the street.

Their attendance would not have mattered to Bruce, who wanted and already _planned_ to take Selina Kyle out for dinner there. It would have been easier to avoid them, yes. As he would have much preferred to sit in her company amongst silence and strangers that hardly knew him. Of course, everyone knew _of_ him, but since his parents passing Gotham's rich and elite didn't socialize with him much unless they had to.

It wasn't so much of a date in his mind. At least, that's what he told Alfred when he inquired for a ride to meet Selina and then walk the rest of the way. Besides, they were much too young for that sort of thing. But he wanted to take her out in order to show her what she had shown him. A piece of Gotham. A piece of himself. He wanted to do something nice for Selina since their time together on the street the day of the Assassin. A day which should have been riddled with horror and danger yet made his heart swell with joy and adrenaline be even the slightest thought of it. The best day of his life spent with Selina learning and hiding. Smoke, she had called it. Disappearing like smoke. And it was something about that day, their time together that taught him how there was much more to life than just the little things surrounding them. He wanted to take Selina out because he wanted to show people how much more there is to life than what they were living, but more importantly because somewhere in his chest he thought "that is what you do when you care for someone." When you like them and you know they deserve something nice.

It wasn't all about fancy food, and nice places filled with people who wore immaculate clothing. Despite those things being what he began to associate with kindness growing up. The way his father used to take his mother out once a week somewhere nice. Or the nights they came as a family-Alfred included of course. His mother would tip the band players a little extra, asking them to play something his father liked. The polite waitstaff who would swing by a time or two to refill drinks and check on them. Couples would dance in the middle of the room and he watched boyfriends push their girlfriends into their seats and pour the wine. It wasn't necessary to take Selina into a joint such as this but just something he wanted to do… because once he watched his parents do all those things and hoped one day he would be able to have such a humble opportunity do the same to someone he cared for. _Fancied_, Alfred would have put it.

Selina Kyle deserved those sort of things to him. He wanted to share them with her and somehow after a brief explanation, she folded her arms and agreed.

They arrived sometime at the dot of eight o'clock.

"I hope you know I'm not going to go easy on you tonight. This was your idea. _You_ wanted to do this.." Selina sauntered in ahead of him with a teasing smirk on her face. Soon she spun around him walking backward.

"Yes, I remember," he smiled his usual boyish grin as the Doorman standing on both sides of her tipped their hats to him with a smile while opening the double openings as Selina came through.

"All I'm saying here is that I hope you brought your wall-" she turned around in just enough time to take a step back and avoid crashing into one of the waitstaff. Gracefully coming by with a tray of assorted cookies and sandwiches, dodging her by just a second. Her voice gone soft, mouth open in surprise at the colourful view of the scene and the people inside it. Woman in fancy dress wear, men in tailored suits, and an older fellow dressed up with a bow-tie serenading the place with soft violin music. In Gotham, every street corner and underground subway was a place to perform, but the man with the bow-tie was putting on a show. The entire establishment in this halo-like glow of pink and gold. Hot food freshly prepared was wafting through her nose and making her stomach growl.

She glanced at Bruce who appeared beside her and rolled her eyes.

"What?" He held a goofy smile on his face.

"You told me we were going someplace nice." She folded her arms in protest as her smile faded, clearly annoyed and suddenly overrun with the feeling of being out of place. Still wearing her street clothes from yesterday and the day before. Torn jeans, muddy boots, leather and all.

"This is nice."

"This is _more_ than nice," she explained. "It's like _The_ _Ritz_ or something."

Bruce frowned against himself, disappointed in Selina's unhappiness but even more unhappy with himself for not anticipating her reaction in the first place. But he soon smiled again, determined to fix his idiocy at attempting what he believed to be: a nice thing.

"Everyone here is dressed so nice," Selina pointed out. "Even you." She made a face and pointed at his clothes.

He was wearing a nice blue dress shirt with his usual slacks and his father's winter coat above it all. He couldn't even stop himself from leaving without putting on one of his sweater vests. A knit light blue to match his shirt. Like Selina's coat, it was one of his favourite things.

"I dress like this every day," he responded, knowing he didn't _have_ to try and differently for Selina's sake. Not that he would have even if he wanted to. "If you wanna go somewhere else to eat we can turn around and—"

"No," she cut him off abruptly. Her eyes seeing past him over to the stature of another serving gentleman. Coming past with a tray filled with copious amounts of food and suddenly she was reminded of how completely _starving_ she was. A bite to eat here. A morsel there. A muffin grabbed off of a man's bread tray with a banana snatched from another woman's brown paper-bagged groceries. It was never enough. Day after day, it didn't measure up to the meals she was missing. So naturally, she was often hungry. Naturally, she loved food. Which Bruce understood.

"We can stay," she continued, offering up a small smile while trying to contain how much her mouth watered even though she didn't have to.

It was in the sea of Rich people old, young and in-between where she spotted a perfect little round table seated for two. She trotted over ahead of Bruce and leapt into one of the chairs just as a serviceman was coming toward them with menus. Selina had her legs crossed over the chair—perfectly herself while everyone around was beginning to stare. The waiter glanced down towards Bruce,

"Will this table be alright?" Another set of wait staff who had seen Selina seat herself (despite not being in the place for such) were already pouring her water and offering a basket of bread. Even from far away, Bruce could see the perfect heat of steam rising from the bread torn by Selina's fingers.

He was a little dissatisfied himself by the time he and their waiter had reached her. As he wanted to have the chance to push her into the chair. However, the feeling faded as he watched Selina already enjoying the food, deciding that that was a better feeling.

"Yes, very much. Thank you." He settled down as the Hostess respectively dropped their menus before them and retreated to his respective table. Presumably to change or rearrange the possible _reserved_ seat they had just taken. Bruce had called ahead. Reserved them a private table. It was a crowded night. He can only assume the circumstances though it was clear they would not be asked to be removed. Nothing involving Selina stays the same.

He had studied and _observed_ in some cases, partners going on dates through various means of romantic settings. And though Bruce didn't consider Selina nor himself a _romantic_, a walk on the beach or boat ride along Gotham's river didn't seem like anything special to either of them. The cinemas perhaps, but neither one of them seemed interested in films and television. Besides, Selina responded to food. As it became a habit of himself to bring her a tray of breakfast when she overslept, a tray of dinner when she was avoiding him. And somehow sneaking down in the centre of the night at the perfect hour to join her for a midnight snack. This, of course, all while she was staying at the Manor.

Selina loved food. And Bruce loved how she loved food. Always being told that somehow "eating quickly" was associated with "tasting nothing." Not savouring. Not enjoying. Not having enough _polite_ manners. Selina showed him that wasn't in fact, the case.

"Order _everything_ you like," he told her as they opened their menus. That was all she needed to hear. For when another waiter returned they came with a tray of water, sparkling beverages and whatever else the pair of them might need. Selina was already ready to order.

"Corn," was the first thing she asked for. As a side, which Bruce could only imagine was good since he knew the corn on the cob was something popular. Most people, as he'd seen during dinners at friends houses and fancy charity dinners would season their corn with salt and pepper. Proceeding to eat the vegetable with a fork and a knife. First, they would use the knife to cut the corn from the cob and shell it onto their plate where they would take it from the plate with their fork. Bruce had seen people do it dozens of times before. It was proper. It was polite. But Selina would sink her teeth directly into the bone of the corn until the juice dribbled down her chin and neck. All the way down her arms and to a pool on the table. This of course, after she's flavoured the entire thing in butter with her _fingers_.

"Ribs," was the first thing she spat for an entree. "Ribs and… a hamburger." She was as sure as the click of her tongue. The waiter jotted it down, and thankfully… didn't finish. A hamburger turned into spaghetti, which morphed into a steak. Bruce couldn't help but break out in a smile, which caused him to think. He meant to say _"anything"_ as in: _"order anything you like."_ Yet instead, he had mistakenly said _"everything,"_ which somehow didn't bother him at all and he assumed both would have meant the same thing otherwise.

Selina ordered pasta as well, and anything the waiter suggested to her she agreed to without hesitation. Onions, lettuce, ketchup, and tomato with her burger. Loaded mashed potatoes fixed with butter and chives to compliment her steak. Anything that consisted of grease and mess, Selina obliged.

At one point during her endless order, their waiter actually glanced over at Bruce with raised eyebrows that suggested: _"is she for real?"_ But all Bruce could do was laugh as quietly as possible. Then he asked Bruce for his own meal, 90% of his writing pad having already been taken up with Selina's dinner.

"I'll have whatever she's having," he replied. "You must be hungry," he said to Selina with a grin.

"Starving," she confirmed. "You wouldn't believe the crazy day I had."

They conversated over the meal. Selina doing most of the talking while Bruce spent time listening, watching and taking in small mouthfuls of food. Their dinner covering every inch of the table alongside a smaller fold-out consisting of all the extras. It became clear by the look on the staff and patrons faces that they had never had an order so big before. Even with Bruce and Selina splitting the food evenly, it came to enough to feed a small army. Or at least a small child. Who was busy cutting all the food in half and piling it onto her companion's plate for consumption.

Apparently, during the day Selina had gotten caught in the crossfire in the Classic case of "wrong place" and "wrong time." She knew in the lower side of Gotham how careful she had to be, but having swiped some expensive diamonds the night before during a quick nip-and-grab she knew she had to expend them quickly. To get them out of her pockets as soon as possible. They still had the little white tag hanging around them.

Her and Ivy had been wandering down the street to her newest—and _temporary_ fence when more than a few cop cars sped their way and bergaded the street.

It was another homeless raid, Selina knew. Even if she did have diamonds in her pocket and the two of them were too little for all the hustle of cop cars, part of her worried they'd come straight for her. And even if they hadn't, they'd sure snatch her up as quick as they could and carry her away for a whole bunch of made-up reasons.

Thankfully, she and Ivy had been quick enough on their feet. Ivy being small and swift made it easy for her to run and hide. Selina could have done the same but she chose to send them on a chase instead. Give them a run, she felt. Make them think they had the upper hand even as she was worried out of her mind. She took them down street corners and alleys:

"She's dangerous," she heard one of them say. "You have to shoot her."

And when the first bullet ran out past her feet causing her to jump, the game was over. Her lungs burning from the heat inside her lungs she jumped on the back of a nearby bus at the stoplight just as it started rolling again. Waved and coughed at the policemen "goodbye," knowing they wouldn't try to catch her now.

"Why would they worry about you if they were trying to catch the other kids on the street?" Bruce wondered during a pause in Selina's voice. She was then in mid-chew with her rib rack... Sauce slathered over her face.

"Because," she said with her mouth full. "They see me and think I'm trouble." _The faster they get me off the street, the better_, she thought, but she was still eating and didn't feel like swallowing quickly enough to finish the sentence. Then Bruce replied:

"But you are trouble."

She stopped eating and stared blankly at him. Surprised, almost. _Did he really mean that?_ She wiped the rib-sauce with the sleeve of her hood-having abandoned her jacket on the back of the chair an hour ago.

"The good kind," he finished, smiling.

She had to fight herself not to smile back. So she shoved her lips back against the bone of her pork.

"Selina you might want to slow down, you're going to make yourself sick," Bruce pointed out. Remembering Selina's first night at the Manor. She ate until there were no leftovers—Alfred was pleased. However, later in the night, Bruce overheard Selina puking from the bathroom. Too much rich food in her system made her stomach turn sour. She wasn't used to it.

She ignored him, however, and continued on with her story. "Anyway, I spend the remainder of the day hocking wallets off strangers, catching the bus back to my squat to meet Ivy, and running across the street with some other people." She caught the curious look he was giving her. "You, know? For fun." She couldn't have expected him to understand, not because he was rich or entitled to be in one of the cars that would casually attempt to run to her over. But because he was Bruce, and didn't know a thing about being outside his house walls.

"So, did you sell the diamonds?" His fork flicked across his plate. He'd barely eaten a thing. Bites here and there in between Selina's story. He was enthralled with her wild side of life that he couldn't eat.

Selina licked her five fingers clean before digging around the back of her chair and into her jacket pocket. She whipped the silver pieces of jewellery toward the front with a prideful grin. A necklace. Slim and shiny that came down into the form of a triangle shape. Each point a diamond that still sparkled against the dim light of the restaurant. Selina smiled with a silly grin, her lips pursed into themselves as she flicked the stolen item into her palm and return it to her pocket.

It was then when she was busy licking the last remains of the rib sauce and burger grease from her fingers when trouble began.

"Hey, Brucey." It was Elliott, who glanced back at his pack—kids from Bruce's school. "Aren't you gonna introduce me to your friend?" They hadn't seen him wander over from across the floor. Bruce was too focused on Selina and Selina was too focused on the food. Not that she much cared for Bruce's classmate anyway.

She gave him a sideways glance. Her eyes slithering up and down his frame from his stupidly expensive haircut to his designer shoes. An ugly looking uniform that suggested he wore it from school, or at least something similar. She rolled her eyes before her gaze fell upon Bruce who was attempting to stammer some kind of answer. Then it clicked. Elliott, was a bully. _More importantly_, he was Bruce's bully. Selina knew about Bullies. Most notably that she didn't like them.

"It's Bruce," she clicked her tongue at Elliott to match his cockiness. "No "y."

Elliott seemed surprised she had a voice to speak.

"You need your girlfriend to speak for you now?" He paid her no mind but shoved a thumb in her direction.

Selina picked up the steak knife from their table she didn't use and began to pick her teeth with it. If no one was the wiser, Bruce and Elliott would have thought she was _sharpening_ it. Preparing to stab Elliott for such a rude introduction. He flashed her a disgusted look. _What a weird girl,_ he thought. But he wasn't scared of her. Yet.

"You really do like the weird ones. don't you, Bruce?" He eyed Selina suspiciously with a quizzed grin.

"What are the goggles for? Can you see with them on?" And they inferred?" He pointed to the plastic green lenses atoned with shiny metal and leather straps on top of curls that hadn't been combed through in weeks.

"I don't like to get blood in my eyes," she replied." And I'm not his girlfriend." She now corrected with a hint of irritancy. Sucking in her teeth as she licked them clean right as Elliott admittedly thought it was then she was surely going to stab him with a fancy steak knife. What a horrible way to go. However, she didn't. Instead, she placed the knife back on the table and flashed him the biggest smile she could fake.

"People call me Cat." She spit directly into the centre of her greasy palm and reached for Elliot's hand by his side. He was caught off guard, too late to move away as the street girl latched her disgusting fingerprints onto his own. He squirmed his hand free with disgust. Bruce had to fight himself not to laugh. "Nice to meet you," she lied, picking her teeth now with her nails. Satisfied from hunger.

A beat. Then Elliott softened. She was actually kind of nice-looking up close. Cute. He could make out her torn jeans underneath the short tablecloth and fishnets to compliment. She was tough seeming on the outside, but he could tame her, he was sure of it.

"And _you_ can call me, anytime." He flashed her a cocky smile filling her with rage. It was her turn to look at him with disgust.

She would have jumped from her seat and slammed her fist into his face with that comment. She knew what he was saying to her. It's what everyone said to her when she wandered the street. Broad daylight or not. It's partly why she kept her hood up, but they always seemed to see her. When they wanted to.

It was Bruce's voice that caused her to hesitate. Soft and sweet, his composer was enough for the both of them to remain calm.

"Leave her alone, Tommy. You're being very unkind." He was stern and yet smooth at the same time. Not yelling, but with a voice raised gently enough as to not invoke the staff to ask them to leave. Bruce was a gentleman. He couldn't help himself.

"Sheesh," he finally stepped away as Bruce gave him a frightening glare that matched Selina's. "Just trying to be friendly." He stalked away back to his group alone in the corner. They had been watching the whole time. Some snickering to themselves while others had their mouths hung open. One girl was smoking right under a **"no smoking"** sign.

"Friend of yours?" Selina asked jokingly. Bruce chuckled. "Why does that guy pick on you anyway?"

"He thinks I'm weird," Bruce replied. "And he's right, I am." He didn't smile as he said this.

"You are weird," Selina confirmed. "The good kind."

They smiled, and Bruce couldn't remember a time after his parents' death where he was happy. _The most_ happy, he could put it if he could label his feelings anything at all. He wished it could go on forever. The pair of them laughing and eating under dim candlelight and the sound of chattering strangers. Lingering stares and the celestial harmonies of professional violinists in the background. But it was getting late, and Alfred had insisted he be home by midnight at the very latest. Alone or otherwise.

Bruce put his hands over his pockets to get his wallet out before their waiter came back. However, Selina squirmed in her seat a little to suggest she was getting out currency of her own.

"No, Selina you don't have to. I took you out, I'm going to—"

"Oh, don't worry about me," she stopped him with a smirk. "I'm not paying," she laughed. "This dinner's all on _him_." She pointed in Elliott's direction, who was busy laughing with his friends. He wasn't paying any attention when Selina proudly produced his _wallet_ from her jeans. Smiling like a Cheshire Cat. She had swiped it easily enough when she grabbed his hand. One of her own to do the talking and the other to do the work.

"You didn't have to do that," Bruce said, but he was smiling.

"Of course I did," Selina reasoned. "He owes us."

Their waiter finally came around again, bringing the check for convenience. Selina's sly and still greasy fingers pinched into the stolen leather pouch, fished out a hefty bit of _hundred dollar bills (dumbass)_ and handed it over to their waiter.

"Keep the change," she smiled.

He thanked her and left. Selina stood first to leave, half wanting to leave while the getting was good, but also because she was starting to feel sick inside her stomach. Bruce followed her stance just as there was a roar from across the room.

"Hey! That's my wallet!" Elliott pointed and hollered directly at Selina, still holding the leather in her hand. His gang of losers and their serviceman glancing over at her.

Nobody moved as Selina quick bolted from her chair. One hand latching onto her leather jacket from behind and the other reaching for Bruce. She pulled him towards the exit and they ran to the double doors that were already being opened eagerly for them. Bruce's heart was pounding but he didn't understand why.

Perhaps it was because he was doing this with Selina. How it excited him to his core. Perhaps it was because truthful, he wasn't sure what was going to happen next. He didn't know where they were going next.

No one seemed inclined to stop them. Only Tommy, who by now had bolted from his own booth with his friends. The staff and other patrons of the restaurant didn't move an inch.

Soon, they were running out into the chilly winter's night of the city, pulling their coats over their arms. Into the street, Selina pulled Bruce there and even in a second of what should have been seen as danger he didn't feel unsafe. His lungs were burning and he was laughing as the cars flickered their lights at him and blared their horns.

It was only until they made it as far around the next corner where Selina hurled. No one was after them now.

"Hey, are you okay?" Still coming down from the high, Bruce put a gentle hand against her back.

She was sick until her words were just a shameless hollowed whisper towards the moonlight.

"Never better."


End file.
